Ditto
by SimplyMatt
Summary: Shy nerdy Seth Clearwater, and the forever hiding Emmett McCarthy find they have more in common than they thought. Nobody could have expected that something as simple as a friend request on a social network could be the start of hope, friendship and something unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a collaboration with, Authorboi. It isn't just my work, it's **_**ours**_**.**

**All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, we are just borrowing them. The plot is ours, from our very own minds.**

**Big thank you to our beta Nmydreamz, she has helped us so much with this piece. **

**Greatest of thanks to Dora for making us the fantastic cover for this story, it really has captured everything we wanted.**

**Please be kind and leave a review.**

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Summer's arrived early, but instead of going out to enjoy the sun, or playing sports like so many other kiwi teens my age, I am sitting inside studying chemistry. Exams are in full swing and if I want to follow my dream to become a veterinarian, I will have to pass with top grades. Schooling is the only thing I am good at. Everything else is a part of life. When I was younger I wanted to be a doctor. But as I become older the more I turn to animals for company.

Scratching my dog's ear I stare at my books, dreaming of life with someone I love. Someone who doesn't judge me for my quirky ways. I am distracted when my forever-jealous cat jumps onto my books, throwing them into disarray.

"Jesus, Buddy!" I shout as the dog begins jumping over my notes, tearing them with her paws. I pick up the dog and the cat and throw them both out of my bedroom. I hear the commotion as the dog chases the cat out of the house. "You two need to learn to get along," I mumble before cleaning up the mess, hoping I can salvage some of my work.

My phone goes off from somewhere in my room. I can't help but smile, I know exactly who it is. Cursing, I find it under a pile of dirty wash mum's been asking me to throw in the machine all week.

"S'up, Jake," I smile into the phone.

"Idiot!" he chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah."

"You're coming on Facebook," he says, after a few more minutes of bantering.

"Yeah, nah," I say, frowning into the phone.

"I've been invited to a page for authors of Slash." This makes me sit up and take note. "Now you're listening," he chuckles in his deep, rich voice.

Finally, I think I've been accepted! People like me, all over the world. Beautiful, non-judgemental people. Writers or lovers of the written language. They don't laugh at the skinny kid they see before them, the one who hardly says _boo,_ for fear of being teased.

It takes a lot of persuading by my only friend, who I am lucky to see but three times a year. Those times are precious to me. Not that he knows how much he means to me. We have nothing in common but we seem to gel. Funny, really, when you look at it. Nobody knows why we became friends, we seemed to fall into place. He wants to protect me from the cruel world we live in. A protector; a friend he will always be to me.

"Come on, silly, they are just people on a screen," he says, for the hundredth time. "You don't have to talk if you don't want," he sighs down the phone line.

"But who would want me?" I murmur.

"Anyone with a good heart. Please, try. You can leave if you want to," his voice fills with hope. He knows my walls are crumbling. He is always able to find my weak spot in the wall I have built around myself.

"Fine," I grumble.

"Yes!" he whoops.

"Do they let you keep a page if you don't have enough friends?" I ask, having no idea how it works, social networking is not my thing.

"You will make lots, I promise," he chuckles.

The next few hours I sat, staring at the computer, wondering if I should make the page. My friends voice echoes in my head, telling me I will be safe; he will make sure of it. I finally hit the button and find my friend. Wow, I made FACEBOOK! Right away a request pops up, and I'm asked to join a group. I hurry to hit the accept button before they change their mind and decide I am a nobody.

So much to see, and so much fun these fellow writers seem to have. Encouraging words make me smile. And then, it happens. I give a loud gasp. I stare at the screen, wondering if my eyes are deceiving me. Could it really be? Yes, it is! My heart is a flutter. The writer I have admired for so long! His words, like a melody upon my lips. So many times I have read his words, wondering if he is what I imagine him to be.

In my excitement I have to ask . . . is it really true? Is it? Please tell me he is here, the one I have admired from afar. No longer shy at the giggles they give, I fire a million questions.

I leave the page with a heavy heart; he's not said a word today. When I return I see more posts of _'welcome, its nice to meet you'._ Blah, blah, blah. I quickly acknowledge and say hello. Will he see my words, I wonder?

His light banter with all the others makes him seem fun. I get him. His wit, his comebacks . . . as though we are one. Can he read my mind? Is he avoiding the silly little gay boy who makes a fool of himself? Maybe I will leave the page and forget I ever came.

"They seem a lot of fun," my friend chuckles, telling me of some character he had met.

"Yeah," I smile down the phone. Do I tell him I can't go on?

I'll give it one more chance. What do I have to lose? They will forget me in a heartbeat. If I go, no one will miss me; no one ever does. The boy who sits with a book, alone in the school yard, away from the rest.

"OH MY GOD!" I shout out loud. "Mum, he asked me!" I give a gasp. But do I accept? What if he wants to tell me to leave?" Mum squeezes my shoulder.

"Just give it ago," she says, walking away; leaving me. This is my call, so here I go. I push the _accept_ button and hold my breath.

**Emmett**

It's raining again, a perfect ending to another shitty day. I should be used to it. It's not like England is renowned for the blessing of summer days, but after the week I'd had I want something to go right - anything.

I'm so sick of the self-monologues in my head, torturing myself for things outside of my control. Why haven't I gotten used to it by now?

Reaching for the coffee, I swallow the burning liquid; feel the scorching pain going down my throat. It hurts, but at least it reminds me I'm human, I can still . . . feel.

Sighing, I walk from the kitchen towards my computer. It's been so long since I've written something, anything, but I know all I will do is procrastinate on Facebook again. Playing with words used to hold so much more for me, and I looked forward to updating my blog every week. That was until everything dried up and creativity left me, like everything else in my life.

No sooner do I log on and Esme is flashing up in the small chat window; checking if I'm ok. I should lie, but for some reason she can always tell, always seem to understand when I'm hiding things.

_Hey, how was work?_ As crap as ever, and she knows it.

_Fine. _I lie, sending a smiley, chuckling to myself.

One thing I like about Esme, she doesn't keep me waiting for replies. She calls it stalking me, but she doesn't understand how much I need her. I don't tell her how I have nobody to talk to, no one who cares enough to listen. Such is life.

_Have you been in the group yet?_ she types, forgetting the endless amount of groups people have added me to over the years I've been blogging.

_Care to elaborate?_

With speed I read as the woman I have chatted to for years, and who's checked over every chapter I've ever written, tells me about what I missed when at work. Something seems to have gotten the female authors swooning.

A new gay guy joined one of the writing groups. Great. Fan-bloody-tastic.

The last thing I want to do is go in there, chat to this stranger, but Esme isn't the only one who's sent me a message about him. At least seven other people have contacted me, all telling me to go look at the post.

_Can't be arsed,_ I tell Esme, looking at my reflection in my computer, my frown on show for the world to see. Luckily I'm home alone, as usual; my housemates seem to have this thing called life down.

Esme's persistent ping rings through my computer's speakers, dragging my attention back to her. _Emmett, he's a fan!_

I roll my eyes the way I always do, when someone tells me they like my writing, not to mention using the F word. All these people think I have talent, yet I do all this to stop myself from going crazy, not for the applause.

I'm intrigued though, not because he is a fan; because he is like me. All the other authors of male/male romance are women, and Esme is telling me he writes. It seems only fair to at least take a look, right?

His post seems to be the talk of the day, with over thirty comments and likes, the women all swooning over this guy who goes by the name of Seth Clearwater.

Jealousy bubbles through me when I see all the people I chat to have already sent him a friend request, even Esme - traitor! Filtering through his post I see my author name in one of his comments, this person I've never chatted to, telling everyone how great I am.

He's lying, he has to be. There are so many great people out there who write, why pick me? I should get out of the group and chat to Esme more, ignore this little twerp trying to build up fans by pretending he is nice. Before I know what I'm doing, I've already sent him a friend request.

Now I wait . . . heart racing a little . . . palms sweaty.

Just waiting.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips and I collapse my body into my old, leather chair, tired eyes struggling to fully take in everything onscreen. Thoughts of logging off and shutting down my computer fester in my mind, but I seem unable.

Something about the happening within the slash group is keeping me logged in and focused, as much as I can be with my current fatigue trying to win out. Other than the ladies, the two, new boys remain silent.

I comment on a few of their posts, welcoming them to the group, but no reply - nothing. Not even a bloody hello.

_Some bloody fan._ I grumble, still checking the updates highlighted on my screen.

With every alert my stomach turns, heart rising in my chest, only to fall like a sack of shit back to the ground when none of them turn out to be what I want; _Him_ accepting my friendship.

Nothing.

Friends pop up in chat, all echoing one anothers excitement about the new, shiny gays to swoon over, again and again telling me one is a fan. Like a broken record. Engaged as I am in their conversations, there is still a little something drawing my attention away, a need to be accepted.

I've never really got on with other gay men, except my housemates. I have had nothing in common with the pretty, well dressed men the stereotype tells us we should look like. Jeans and a t-shirt, thats me . . . all covering the little bit of extra weight I'm okay carrying. I'm not a twink - far from it.

It doesn't mean I don't want to be there, classed as one of the beautiful men I can somehow tell these guys must be. No wonder the women are swooning over them . . . they never did me.

Realising I am beating myself up over nothing, I send a friend request to the other guy before switching off my computer.

Surely at least one of them will add me . . . maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone for reading chapter one, and for reviewing. Authorboi and I are pleased you are enjoying our story.**

**Big thank you to our beta nmydreamz for helping us with this.**

**We own nothing other than plot, but rest assured the chapters will get bigger for all those who love a long read.**

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**Seth**

I stare at the screen. Should I write something? Maybe, since he asked to be my friend. I am socially inept and begin chewing my nail, while my leg bounces up and down with nerves. Jacob can see through this, and every day I thank my boyfriend of eighteen months for introducing us. Jared lives a six-hour drive away, and I see him only three times a year. I know deep down I am just his lay when he comes to see his family over the breaks, but my need to feel that someone other than my family cares makes me stay with him. Jacob is his best friend, or used to be. They have drifted apart too, since Jared left to attend university.

A ping interrupts my thoughts. I look at my screen and there he is, sending me a private message.

_Hi, thanks for friending me!_

Oh my God! What do I say? Fanboying is out of the question. Why the hell is he thanking me? Has he not seen what I said, about what I think of him? My hands hover over the keys. Closing my eyes I think of my character. in my latest story. The bright, quirky, fun, sweet guy I wish I could be.

_Hi._

Yep, that was impressive. I push my keyboard to the side and bang my head on my desk. Why can't I be normal? I have a loving family who does nothing but encourage me to be myself. They love me unconditionally. Sure, Leah gives me shit about being odd, but she, too, supports me. God help anyone who picks on me. I'm lucky she has a friend from the rugby team at school who has my back, if needed. Since joining judo I've been left alone. Not that I am any good at it, I just like to think I can protect myself. It is all thanks to a teacher at school who caught some guys pushing me around, and suggested I give it a go.

_So . . ._

I sit up and look at the screen. I had forgotten all about Emmett drifting into my crappy life.

_Thanks for asking me. Sorry, nervous, _I admit.

_LOL, why?_

_Um, hello? I'm Seth, and I am your biggest fan._

There is no reply. Oh, good one, Seth. Scare the dude away.

It just hits me that I can now go to his own, personal page and be nosy. I have no idea what he looks like, and the first photo I see of him makes me giggle. He is in a costume, a sweet grin on his face. He is completely covered, except for his face.

_I don't know why. I'm not that good._

_Phfft!_

_So, tell me about your writing?_

_Um, just on fanfic, and I do it to escape real life, you know ?_

_Sounds familiar, yeah._

_You've published. I knew it was coming out but I will have to get Mum's credit card, so I can by it._

Oh, good one, Seth. Show him how young you are. Need my mothers credit card . . . ugh.

_LOL :) how old are you?_

_Sixteen, almost seventeen._

Of course I could have lied, but why? I was brought up to be true to myself, and to others.

_Can I see a photo?_

Shit. I hoped no one would ask that. I am not anything to look at. I am not ugly, but I am tall and skinny and, like most teens, have pimples.

_I don't have any._

_Awe. Well, nice talking to you, kid. Talk to you later, bye!_

He is gone before I can reply. KID? Fuck, why can't I lie?

"Seth, come set the table for dinner," Mum yells from the kitchen. Sighing, I turn off my computer and open my door, only to get bombarded by Leah, who's playing her loud rap music in her bedroom. I can hear my dad's car pull up the driveway. Smiling, I race out to greet him. Dad works long hours, and having him home so early is a treat. "SETH, TABLE," Mum shouts again.

"How's your day?" Dad asks, rubbing my hair.

"I met him today," I say, not needing to add anymore. Dad knows exactly who I am talking about. He and Mum know how much I admire the man who writes the words that seem to call to me.

"Is he nice?" Dad pauses and turns me to face him. I take his briefcase and he smiles. His lips move to mirror mine. "Come on. Mum is going to be hollering to the whole neighbourhood in a second, if you don't set the table."

We live in a modest house, in a modest suburb. My dad is well-paid but never shouts it. Most of their savings is put aside so Leah and I can travel, and not have to worry about paying for our education. Dad has only just finished paying off his student loan and hates the thought of us doing the same. Mum comes running down the hall and all but throws herself at Dad.

You would think they are newlyweds, the way they always kiss and say I love you. Even in the middle of something, like a movie, Dad takes her hand and whispers sweet words of love into her ear. That is what I want. A love that will last forever. Mum is ten years older than Dad. They met when he was still at high school. His parents were horrified that he had an older woman chasing after him. Everyone said they would never last. Oh, how they proved them wrong. Dad says he loves my mum just a little bit more everyday.

"God, Dad, put her down!" Leah comes out of her room, pushing me out of the way. Giggling, I follow her. I don't want to see them make out, either!

I pick at my food, only half listening to Dad's day at work. Excusing myself, I go back to my room, intending to write. Jacob is texting, begging me to come onto Facebook. _Five minutes,_ I promise myself.

No longer having a beta, as the term is used on the site, I will have to do it on my own. I'm too shy to look for another, after the disaster I had with my previous beta. I had received many reviews, requesting I get one. I explained I already had one, and she was doing great. Looking back at my writing _now_, I cringe. How the hell did I not see it? I thought she was a friend, but turns out she thought she could make me straight; make me fall in love with her. The friendship came to a sudden halt. I never gave her the impression I was even remotely interested in her, and she knew I had a boyfriend.

_Hey dude, you're popular._

I look at all the likes and comments to what I had written earlier, along with twenty-nine friend requests. What the fuck?

_Got your own little fan club going, my man!_

_Jacob, you idiot, hahahaha. What about you?_

_Nah, scared them all off as soon as I mentioned Master ;)_

Jacob is into BDSM, something I can and never will understand. He has a lover - who he loves, and a master - who he sees often. Somehow it works for them but it certainly isn't my thing.

_So, you gonna show your photo to all your fangirls?_

_Scare them all away? yeah, nah._

_You're a handsome guy, Seth, give yourself some credit. Got to go, Paul's home for dinner. Love you, later._

He is gone before I can ask about our weekend. My parents have finally given me permission to go visit Jacob, in the city. With promises of taking me to his lover's nightclub, I am excited and terrified at the same time. My phone rings.

"Put up a photo, Seth. Think of making all the ladies swoon over you."

"Jacob, you idiot. Goodnight, and give Paul a hug." It's my turn to disappear before he can say something smart-arse back to me.

Ignoring everything else I scan my computer for photos. I'm always the one in the family who avoids the camera. Never like looking at myself in the mirror, only allowing it when I have to shave for school. I find a couple photos that aren't too bad and decide on my school pics, where I am holding a cup, for my achievements. Nothing sexy about it but, hey, I'm not trying to impress anyone.

Quickly figuring out how to post a photo, I do it, and turn my computer off. I can easily take it down in the morning.

**Emmett**

I don't normally do anything other than sit and write when I'm home, unless you count the banter with Esme and Angela. Online friends seem far easier to get along with than my real life ones, but I guess I can hide behind my avatar; open up more.

Ignoring the sounds of Edward, my housemate, who is playing computer games in the background, I find myself doing something other than pouring my fragile heart into my words. I browse the updates on Facebook. This isn't normally the kind of thing I do unless something catches my eye but, after the short conversation with Seth, I seem to be looking out for him.

_I'm a freak._ I send to Esme, thankful the woman is never too far away when I need her . . . unless the coffee is on . . . but I share in the addiction.

_Yes, but I love you anyway. LOL,_ she teases. Bitch.

Chuckling, I dance my fingers across the keyboard of my iMac - my baby. _Funny fucker, huh? Bloody Americans, LOL._

Esme doesn't get offended when I tease her about being a typical, gun-toting child of the USA, she loves it. Plus, she gives as good as she gets.

_Anyway,_ I start, _have you spoken to that kid, Seth? You know he's like eight, don't you?_

I'm taking the piss, yet my eyes are focused on the fact he isn't logged on. He may be young, but I like chatting to him, however brief.

_He is? Wow, a baby, _Esme gushes. _You know the other guy is a submissive, don't you?_

Normally I would be happy she is leading me towards a more colourful topic in conversation, one we have had many of over the years of chatting, but I find myself wanting to steer the conversation back. We can talk about the submissive later; and we will.

_Calm down, Esme, LOL. Should we be allowing a child to be in our groups? You know the kind of shit we all post._

Hot men, cocks, blow jobs, you name it, the women post pics there. It's a private group, but Seth is the new, youngest member. Should he see shit like this? Not to mention what I post on my timeline. I've been unfriended more than once because of some of my pictures, but it's not my fault the small-minded people offend so easily.

_I did think about that, it worries me._ Esme types, her motherly instincts taking over. It's typical with her, to protect people, her own feelings be damned. Another reason I love her. _Have you spoken to him? He seems sweet and a little obsessed with a certain author - can't say I blame him._

Rolling my eyes, I let a long sigh leave my lips. I write, yes, even get a few readers, but it doesn't mean I think I'm any good. My first novella is on sale, getting decent reviews, but I will never think I'm any good. I just can't seem to stop writing. It's my escape, how I chase away my pain.

_Well, guess what this idiot did! I asked him for a picture of himself! How fucking perverted is that?_

I shouldn't be sending a kid messages like that, what if his parents see it? Great!

A ping alerts me to another message from Esme. _Perverted, no; nosy git, yes. Like me. Isn't he adorable though? He looks so sweet, and the women are swarming him._

It takes me a few seconds to realise what her words are saying to me, and I scan them again to make sure I didn't imagine it. She's seen him? How?

When the two guys were added to the group I went over both their timelines, just to see what they look like, hoping I'm not the ugly one, like I feel; or the old queen. Neither of them had any pictures, so how the fuck has she seen him?

_He just posted, didn't you see?_ Esme sends, when I question her.

He did?

Looking back at the facebook updates I can see alert after alert going off from all the women I'm friend with, comments and likes all leading to one thing. This has to be his picture, nothing else will get them swooning. I swear these women are gay man obsessed; not that I blame them.

With my intrigue captivated, I click on one of the updates to be led to the post that has everyone going crazy. All I see is someone old enough to be my nephew, holding a trophy, dressed in a school uniform. He's so young and everyone here is going crazy, all telling him how cute he is. He is, but a puppy is bloody cute.

Closing the post I think about messaging Esme again, but my mouse is already hovering over his chat box; so I click.

_Hi again._ It's all I seem able to send but, as I'm about to chat to Esme, his speedy reply steals me away.

_Hiya, how are you?_

It's a generic greeting, but I still find a grin gracing my lips.

_Bored. I see you have fans :-)_

My judgemental side takes over and I half expect him to gloat, to love the attention, but what he sends shocks me. A sad face.

_Don't you like it?_ I send, a little bewildered. _They love you._

Like the speed of a bullet leaving a gun, he types back. _No. I hate attention like this._

So why the bloody hell did he post the picture?

_Don't worry, the woman are great, and you're cute,_ I tell him, hoping to chase away the negativity I can somehow read between the lines.

_A puppy is bloody cute!_ I splutter on the coffee I was halfway through drinking, laughter loud enough to have Edward asking me what I find so funny. I lie and tell him Esme is chatting to me. He is used to the reaction I get when talking to her.

_So do you write, or are you just a reader?_ I send, somehow wanting to know a little more about the guy people are teasing me about. I hate they keep calling him a fan - I'm not worthy of fans.

_I write, too. Well, I try. I'm not very good._ It's funny, but it sounds almost like I'm talking to myself. Haven't I told people the same thing over and over again?

I tell him just this, but his response leaves me a little uncomfortable.

_No, you're amazing. I've read all of your stories,_ he tells me, his adoration clear.

With ease I change the direction of our conversation, steering him away from me and how pleased he seems to be that we're chatting. It's nice to talk to my readers, but his words seem to be trying to penetrate me, somehow leaving me breathless. I've made a mistake though, because after only an hour I am learning more about him, forgetting his age as I take in all he is telling me about his life. I even feel a little sad when he tells me he will be back in an hour.

I didn't know it then, not really - but I stand on the verge of falling for someone I will never be able to meet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Update time, pre Christmas. It's Authorboi's birthday on Christmas day so hope you all send him happy thoughts before celebrating. I will be.**

**Glad you all like this story, and please be kind because its one we love writing together.**

**Thanks to Nmydreamz for her beta skills.**

**Happy holidays all.**

* * *

**Emmett**

_Sounds like fun,_ I type to the guy I now seem to be calling _Twinkie_, much to his disapproval.

I'm not really sure how long we've chatted; a few days, maybe. Everything seems to be merging into one. I didn't even realise until Edward had pointed it out, but I'm walking around with a smile on my face, and have been since our first hello. It took me a few seconds when he told me and, of course, I lied and said my writing was going well. Esme was being her usual, funny self but, in the furthest reaches of my mind, I knew it had something to do with Seth.

_Yea, so I will be gone for a few days visiting Jacob,_ Seth replies, a smiley giving away his excitement.

Dread seems to want to consume me, but I'm unsure why. It isn't as if he is anything other than a name on a screen, who replies back. So why the hell does food taste off in my mouth, drinks taste sour? All at the thought of him going away.

_Anything exciting planned?_ I send back, not wanting to remain silent too long, to draw any negative attention my way.

I still feel strange, knowing he won't be here to chat to when I wake, or say goodnight to before shutting down my computer. I've gotten used to the bus journeys to work, chatting to him on my iPhone; the ease of our conversation I seem to look forward to. From tomorrow though, it will all be different, and I will be left sitting at my computer again, thinking about words which won't seem to flow.

_I'm meeting his boyfriends._ A ping alerts me to his message. It must be a miss-type, so I call him on it.

_Think you mean boyfriend, Twinkie,_ I tease, chuckling while drinking my coffee.

_No, I mean boyfriends. Jacob has a boyfriend, and a master. And stop calling me Twinkie, I am not a Twink._ This time his smiley is one sticking its tongue out, so I know he isn't pissed.

_Sounds like fun._ I've never really thought about the BDSM lifestyle, but each to their own. _Will your boyfriend be there?_

Seth's told me many times about his partner, who's away at university, the guy he keeps telling me is hot and how much he loves him. It started out sweet, him telling me how he is with Mr Right, but for some reason I don't want to read his reply. The topic of conversation is one I wish I hadn't started.

I think I'm jealous - of a teenager and his partner!

"Way to sound like a pedophile, Emmett. Well done," I mutter, not fearing Edward will hear over the music blasting through his earphones.

The last thing I need in my life is to fall for someone not only on the other side of the world, but also . . . what is it . . . seventeen years younger than me? Fuck that! No way!

After a few seconds of my self-loathing I realise Seth hasn't replied, something out of character unless he is sleeping; even then, he would say goodnight.

_Seth? You there?_

He doesn't reply with words, just a sad smiley. It aches my heart and I have to chase away the urge to protect rushing through me. Is it even protection, or is there something else wanting to break from my lips?

_What's wrong?_

I can't seem to shake the feeling I've upset him, but his reply is bittersweet. It isn't me who made him sad, someone else; his boyfriend.

_I'm not stupid. He doesn't love me._ There is a coldness laced in his words, sending shivers down my back.

He's hurt, I can tell, but what can I say to appease him? What can I do, so many thousands of miles away?

_Why do you think that?_ I send, already knowing after our short friendship how sweet he is, how he must have a heart of gold thumping within his chest.

_He just wants me for sex, Emmett. Nothing more._ He pauses for a second while I stare mindlessly at the screen, before continuing. _I think I should break up with him._

It doesn't feel wrong when my breath hitches in my throat, the way butterflies seem to flutter in my stomach. Should it feel wrong, though? I'm smart enough to know nothing can come of this, not with him living so far from me. There is an age difference, yes, but it's strange when I talk to him because I just don't see it. Seth comes across as an old soul, wiser than someone of sixteen years.

_I don't know what I can say, Seth. You need to follow your heart though, baby._

I hit send before realising what I've written, mentally slapping myself for the slip.

_Baby?_ He sends back with a smiley, its tongue sticking out.

Laughing, I try to cover up my slip by changing the direction of the conversation. _If you lived closer we could talk about this for real. I need more friends in this bloody country. Gay friends._

With lightning speed his reply is back, and my coffee cup freezes in place before touching my lips.

_Didn't I tell you I'm moving to England in 2015? I'm looking to go to university there._

I'm shaking a little, yet I seem unable to move. All I can do is read the words coming in fast.

_I could start there now due to my grades, but my mum wants me to finish college here, first. _An angry smiley. _But in a year I will be so much closer to you._

I want to tell him all the feelings swirling around inside me, but I can't seem to hold onto one long enough to make sense of it; not to mention typing anything other than the word '_nice'._

Great! Brilliant for someone who calls himself an author - well done.

I'm a dreamer, always have been, but I can't fall prey to these imaginings and play with the fragile heart of someone society deems a kid. I need to act my age, let him know that all we can have is friendship. Nothing can happen with him living so far away.

Didn't he just say he is moving, though? Isn't that a sign?

No! I need to stop thinking things he isn't, wishing love for my heart, when all I have is his adoration. I do this all the time, fall for those I can't have, only to be left on the sideline while watching others fall in love. So many of my friends are with someone now, all telling me I need to start dating. I'm bored with going out, only to end up as a one-night stand. I want more, to feel special for once in this life.

_Emmett, I have to go pack. Will try and message you this weekend but, if I can't, then have a great time,_ Seth sends, his script followed by a heart.

While sending him my well wishes and reassurance to do what he feels is right with his relationship, I can't seem to focus on anything other than the small smiley.

The next morning, I'm walking to the post office with a small package in my hand, tokens collected by the author I try to be, for a fan Seth can _only_ be. I promised to send him something a few nights ago, postcards of my book cover, and some other treats.

While taking the short journey I regret the words I wrote on his card, a generic script from a writer to his reader; void of real emotions. My words were true, but not what I wanted to write; not the emotions I felt bubbling inside me. I had to stop myself writing all this, playing with both our hearts when I should know better.

The moment the post office clerk takes the package from me and puts it with the other overseas mail, I want to take it back; tear it open, and rework everything.

I want to tell Seth Clearwater that I . . . that I think I might . . .

**Seth**

I hate the lump in my throat when I have to tell him I am going to leave, to pack. Stupid me should have packed while he was sleeping, but no. I am still debating over whether or not I want to go. I want to see Jacob so bad and finally get the hug I ache for, from my best friend. The only person who can make me feel protected is Jacob. Not even Jared can, when he is home. He is never one to show his affections. The more I look at it, the more I come to realise how much he uses me.

I look around my room and cringe. It's like a bomb has gone off. Without thinking, I send Emmett a picture of me, and he can see the squalor I live in. I am going to drive myself into the city for the first time, which alone terrifies me. Once packed, I head to school, ready to take my final exam for the year. Somehow I manage to get Emmett out of my head but know he is here, in my heart. To him I am just a kid on the screen, a silly little fanboy. The moment I close my exam paper he comes flooding back into my head. The heat rushes to my cheeks and that silly smile comes to my face. Walking up to the examiner I hand over my paper. She gives me a wink, thinking I am happy with how the exam went. If only she knew what I was really thinking about.

Getting in the car I flick on my phone and text Jacob, telling him I'm about to leave. Promising I will drive carefully, I rip my school tie off and place it on the seat beside me. I will stop off and take a break, and change into something more comfortable later. Right now I have to hit the road before I change my mind and go back to the safety of my room, my own little world. Putting Nirvana on my stereo, I turn it up full blast and try to concentrate on the road. As if noise is going to drown out Emmett.

"What are you doing to me?" I ask the reflection in the side mirror.

Once at Jacob's house I finally get to have the hug I had been wanting for days. His large body feels strong and loving. I hold onto him and let the tears and confusion out. Without pulling back he drags me to the bedroom where I will be staying, sits me on the bed, and tells Paul he will be out soon. He grabs tissues and sits beside me. I crawl onto his knee and lean my head against his chest, listening to his beating heart, wishing it to be someone elses.

"You going to talk to me, Seth, or just rub your snot all over my new shirt?" Jacob chuckles, making me bounce. I thump his chest, regretting the action. Jacob works out and his chest is like a brick wall. My thumping doesn't even seem to register to him, but he takes my hand and kisses it. I sigh, finally relaxing. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Doesn't matter, you'll just laugh," I pout.

"Seth, I will never laugh at you. Well, only if you tell me one of your lame jokes," he again chuckles. I slide off his knee and look at the floor.

"It's Emmett," I whisper. "I can't get him out of my head. Stupid, right?"

"Why is it stupid? I've seen you and him on facebook, it's obvious you have some sort of connection. You feed off each other." He strokes my hair gently. "Do you have feelings beyond being a friend?"

"It's stupid," I sniff.

"Again, why is it stupid? Just because he lives thousands of miles away doesn't mean he isn't your soul mate, Seth." He stands up and pulls me with him. "Go wash up, and then come meet Paul." He kisses my forehead like a child before swatting my arse, and turns me in the direction of the bathroom.

Quickly washing my face, I follow the scent of my nose and find Jacob and a very hot looking guy, who looks to be about twenty-seven, in the kitchen. They are chatting while holding hands, their focus only on each other. They look so in love, it makes my heart ache even more. I give a light cough, drawing their attention to me. Jacob drops Paul's hand and comes to pull me towards him, into his chest.

"He's fucking cute, alright," Paul says. I turn and glare at him, making him chuckle, but he gives me a wink. "Nice to meet you, Squirt," he smiles, holding out his hand. I lean forward to take his, only to be pulled into his just-as-firm chest and hugged into him. My hands stay at my side, shocked by what he has done.

After dinner I am ready to have some space. I like Paul a lot, but I am used to being locked up in my room, writing, being on my own. Excusing myself, I head to my room and receive a small smile from Jacob, who knows why I am going away. As soon as I lock the door I slide down to the floor, and press my head on my knees. I need to take deep breaths. I look at my watch and want to cry. Emmett will be at work, and I had missed him. Tomorrow morning I will get up and talk to him before we go out to the market, where I hope to find a present for him. He wouldn't take no for an answer when he said he was sending me a gift. I pull out my phone and message Esme. She never seems to sleep, so think I will try her. Somehow she has become my online confidante. I feel she won't judge me. She works with Emmett, on his chapters, and now works with me, on mine. Emmett always speaks of her with such affection and, as time passes, I can understand why.

_Esme, please be awake._

I sit here and go through the other posts while I wait for her reply. I don't have to wait long.

_Hey, sweetheart, where are you? _

_Jacobs. Just letting you know I arrived, and I'm safe, _I lie.

_Why aren't you with him, instead of talking to an old lady like me? _

_They're busy, _I lie, again.

_Really? _

I chew my lip, drawing blood. I hate lying, but I'm not ready to tell her I want to crawl onto her knee and be held.

_I miss home._

I get a lot of comfort from Esme and the more we speak, the happier I feel. She admits she had spoken to Emmett, and he said he was missing me. Saying goodnight, I crawl into bed and try to sleep. Like every night the phone is placed under my pillow, my hand wrapped around it. The thousands of miles can go to hell. I wonder if Emmett is thinking of me right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**We are loving all the positive reviews.**

**Thanks to nmydreamz for all her help.**

**We own nothing other than plot. **

**Emmett**

Boredom is consuming me. I've even taken to adding milk to my normally black coffee so I can see the clouds taking shape inside. All attempts to pull me from the rut I find myself in are futile, too much effort to drag me from my computer seat and back to what Edward would call reality.

_I . . . I don't want to talk about it,_ I send to Esme, who's been trying to engage me in conversation for the past hour.

_Either talk to me, or see the headlines later - American woman kills colleagues because English friend ignored her when she was supposed to be working - do you want me to get fired?_

I'm smiling. She always has a way to get me grinning, but she isn't . . . she's not . . .

Fuck!

I need to stop my mind wandering, taking me to a place I shouldn't go. My focus should be on the blank pages before me or, at the very least, my friend, who is trying to look busy, across the water. The last thing I should allow to flash for even a moment in my head is _him_, the guy I can't seem to stop wondering about.

_He sent me a message, said he wanted to go home. I THINK HE WAS CRYING, ESME!_ My fingers are attacking my keyboard and, without realising it, I've already hit send.

Great! Perfect! Well done!

Esme is going to freak, her anxiety level will go through the roof. Not just for me, but also for Seth. Like she doesn't have her own shit to cope with.

Her calming words seem to float within the screen in front of me, and it's then I realize I'm looking through a pool of my own tears. Shit!

_Emmett, Seth will be fine. He's only a little homesick, is all. He's with the submissive, what's his name again? Wait, name doesn't really matter, does it? *wink, wink*_

Her teasing has me laughing again. Of course she knows Jacob's name, she's trying to make me feel better; or at the very least, steer my mind away from Seth.

Since talking to him for the brief moments when I woke this morning my heart has felt heavy, every beat seeming to scream inside me.

_I want to go home, Emmett. Why did I even come?_

I should be touched he can confide in me so easily, but the thought of him feeling so overwhelmed has me wanting me to run to him and pull him into my arms; let him know everything will be okay. How can I, though, with him living a days journey away by plane? I will never get to meet this guy. I am overcome with the need to protect him. The need to . . . no!

Those words won't leave my mouth. I can't allow my lips to form those four letters for a stranger. I've existed this long without the need for love, so why go down that road now, for somebody so far out of my reach it's like a bad, made-for-TV movie?

_I wish I could talk to him again, check he's okay. Am I a freak?_ I send to Esme, while googling New Zealand to check what time it is there.

6am - he will be sleeping.

No sooner have I thought it, my Facebook chat pings with an alert that has my lip trembling, hands shaking as they hover over my keyboard.

Seth! He's awake!

_Hi Emmett._ For the past hour I've spoken to Esme, and it's taken a small hello from Seth to have a smile brandishing my face. One I didn't have to force.

_Hey, Twinkie. I've missed you._

It's times like this I wish Facebook came with a delete button or, at the very least, some way to pull a message back and stop it being read. Why the fuck did I have to tell him I missed him? He is going to think I'm one of those sick perv's who stalk teenagers online, pretending to be young themselves.

I'm not young though, Seth at least knows that much about me. Will he be pleased I'm so keen to chat to him?

Within seconds my answer is flashing on my screen. _You missed me? Really? I missed chatting to you, too._

Hope seems to bubble inside me, and I send a small smiley in response while collating the right words in my head, before typing them out.

_I had nobody to make me laugh, Twinkie._

A red, angry smiley pings into chat. _Stop calling me Twinkie, I'm not a twink. I'm a nerd._

I can tell he isn't upset, and the next smiley with its tongue sticking out affirms as much.

_Sorry, Seth._

It doesn't feel wrong to leave him three x's as kisses, but when he takes longer to reply I'm halfway through penning my apology when his words spring into the window.

_Sorry about yesterday, I was a little freaked out for a second. I'm ok now._ He's referring to the small melt down he had this morning; last night for him. Stupid time difference.

_Hey, don't worry. Sometimes I go through that, too._

Not that I ever go anywhere anymore, not when all my friends have forgotten about me while falling in love. I've gotten so used to sitting up on the dusty shelf with the other singletons, cobwebs decorating us in our misery.

_Yea, I had a moment - happens._ Another cheeky smiley. _We're off to the club where Jacob works tonight. Apparently, I have to wear a collar. Grrr!_

I try to ignore the way my cock seems to twitch at the thought of him like this, and I force the images away. This isn't how I want to think about Seth, this guy who is having an odd effect on me. When he's online I'm happy, but when he isn't I seem to sit under a black cloud, waiting for his arrival.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I know I should remember how far away he lives, and how much younger he is than me, but something inside is telling me not to care. The only thing to stop me declaring love, like an idiot, is the fact he is taken. I may be a lot of things, but I'm no home wrecker.

_Really, a collar?_ I send, wondering how he is going to cope, going to whatever the fuck kind of club it is Jacob works at.

For some reason I can't picture Seth enjoying being the centre of attention, surrounded by men with lust in their eyes. Or maybe I don't know him. Perhaps the person I'm chatting to is playing a part, and is actually a sex-crazed beast.

No! I won't, _can't_ believe that. He seems so . . . real.

_It's to let everyone know I'm taken, so they won't come on to me._

There is a brightness in his words, but I can't seem to keep from despising them. He may be taken, head over heels in love with his boyfriend, but he shouldn't be. I want to scream into the computer, declare all over the net how I think he should be mine.

He can't be, though. All I can have is a friend who seems to make me want to step out from under the shadows I reside within. As much as I find myself wanting more I can't let him know; can't say anything more than a friend should.

_I bet you will look hot though, all the men will want you._

I've hit send before realising I have gone against my inner torments, my hands seeming to say fuck it, giving me away.

All I have to do now is sit and wait - wait for him to unfriend the freak sitting unhappily in his English home, forever alone.

**Seth**

Even without my puppy jumping on me at an ungodly hour of the morning, I'm awake. Wiping the drool from my face I pull my hand from under the pillow, and try to focus enough to see the screen. My heart races as the thought of talking to Emmett makes something else rise. Willing it to go down, I give up. He doesn't know I'm always horny, but surely he must remember being a horny teen.

I text mum good morning, knowing she will be up taking the puppy out for her morning pee. Then I decide maybe I should try and pee myself before settling in to hopefully talk to Emmett. Although I would imagine, being Friday night there, he would have better things to do than talk to some weird kid on the other side of the world. I can't function without my morning cuppa and slip on some shorts, not worrying about a shirt, as the heat of summer is already upon us. I hear voices too late as I push open the kitchen door. Jacob gives a chuckle and I flip him the bird. He and Paul are like Greek gods and I'm the weedy human.

"What the fuck are you doing up, kid?" Paul asks, his eyes going straight back to his lover.

"Um, want to wish you two luck," I lie. They are doing a charity run this morning, before we hit the market.

"Sure it doesn't have anything to do with a certain guy on Facebook?" Jacob asks, as he pours me the much needed drink. I can feel the heat rush from my neck to my cheeks.

Thankfully, Paul says they are going to be late if they don't leave right now. Once again I wish them luck, and they leave with one last swat on the arse from Jacob. Giving a sigh I head to my room and pull out my laptop, which is much easier to use than my phone, with my big thumbs.

I open Facebook and see so many updates and replies to my posts, but I ignore them all and see if Emmett is on. A smile graces my face as, sure enough, there he is. Being twelve hours behind, I guess it's too early for him to hit the town; maybe pick up a guy. My smile soon turns to a pout.

_Hi Emmett. _I was so tempted to leave the kiss, at the end, but remove it before I hit send.

We spend a while chatting about what my plans are for the day, and my evening out. The last thing I am expecting is the reply I receive. I stare at the screen for what seems hours, my throat dry and my heart thumping to its own beat of wild excitement. I put the laptop down on the bed and do a little dance. Suddenly it hits me that Emmett is still waiting for a reply. I jump on the bed so hard the mouse bounces off onto the floor, and the battery falls out and rolls under the bed. Giving a squeak, I run my fingers over the pad on the keyboard.

_Pffft . . . yeah, right. _I know he is just being kind, and I try to push it to the side. I quickly change the subject. I don't need pity from some hot dude across the oceans.

He seems happy for the change of subject and we slip into teasing each other, although it feels more like flirting to me . . . or is it just my wishful thinking? God, I'm so pathetic. He is worried I am spending too much time with him even though I explain Jacob is out for a few hours. Maybe he just wants to get rid of me. Giving a sigh, I tell him I need to go shower. When we finally manage to say our goodbyes, after another ten minutes of bantering, I log off. To my surprise, we have spoken for hours already, yet it doesn't seem long enough. I just want to keep talking to him.

I head to the shower and I close my eyes, and the latest photo Emmett had posted of himself fills my head. Of course my cock springs to attention again, thinking about the man who has stolen a piece of me. Not that he knows it, of course. I refuse to cheapen Emmett by taking my hand and giving my body what it desires so much. I try to picture Jared and I soften almost immediately. I really need to talk to him and call this thing he says is a relationship off. I am not a cheater and, even though I have not crossed any boundaries, I would never contemplate doing anything with anyone else, unless totally single.

Quickly washing, trying not to think of Emmett, I get out and get dressed. I have a phone call to make. Somehow it doesn't sadden me that I want us over. Rather, it lifts my spirits. I wonder what Emmett will say when I tell him I am going to be single as well. I guess time will tell.

Jacob and Paul come home and seem relaxed even after their long run. Showering as quick as lovers can while sharing a shower, we are soon heading out the door. My phone is fully charged so I can take photos, to show Emmett and my new friends what I am up to. The market is fun, and the music even better. Of course I stop at almost every food stall and try their wares. I maybe skinny but, damn, I love my food.

Jacob and Paul walk hand in hand and no one gives them a second glance. Every once in a while someone gives a frown, but they don't care. They are young and in love, proud of who they are. Girls walk past and giggle, a few even saying hello to the sexy, hot couple. I can't help but roll my eyes as a gaggle of girls follow us around. Jacob finally turns Paul and kisses him deeply, making the girls swoon at the kiss he gives his lover. Even women old enough to be their grandmothers smile as they go past.

"Alright, cut it out," I grumble, jealous of their love for one another.

Jacob pulls me towards him and kisses the top of my head before taking my hand. With Paul's in his other, we continue around the market. People seem to part as we walk through. I try and pull my hand from Jacob's, but he holds firm until I spot yet another food stall I want to go see. I take a million photos and wish everyone a good night, as it's getting late for them.

I have seen so much I want to send to Emmett and Esme, and my wallet is all but bare by time we head home. But in my hot hand is the one gift that will be kept until I arrive in England, so I can personally give to Emmett, if he chooses to accept it. I will have to feel him out about it first, though.

Once we have eaten lunch, I am ordered to go get the clothes I was planning to wear tonight. Paul owns the bar we are going to, and I guess he doesn't want the dress code to slip. I pull out the jeans and shirt me and mum had gone out and bought for my evening. The jeans are tight, hugging my thick thighs before running down my skinny calves.

Paul turned and stares in horror at my clothes. "Do not think you are walking into my club wearing that. We have class, you know," he waves his hand around, mumbling under his breath.

"This is brand new," I pout.

"And they are very nice for day wear, but not to the bar," Jacob sighs.

Paul grabs his car keys and tells me to stay where I am. He walks up to me and puts his large hands around my waist, and smiles. He then pulls the shirt tag from my neck and mumbles that I am built weird. Slapping his hands away I storm to my room and slam the door. A few minutes later Jacob walks in, without knocking, and sits on the end of the bed.

"Don't mind Paul. He meant it as a compliment, Squirt."

"He said I am weird. No one needs to point that out, thanks." I cross my arms and long legs, and pout.

"You have the body of someone who should be a rower. Your shoulders are huge and your thighs are solid, and he's kinda jealous of you. But your waist is that of a womans." He pushes my bottom lip in with his finger and moves the corners of my mouth up, into a smile.

"I broke up with Jared this morning," I say, trying to take the focus off my body. Jacob squints his eyes before nodding.

"Thought it was coming. You okay?"

I chew my lip, wondering whether or not I should tell him I am better than alright. I feel as though a weight had been taken off my shoulders. I don't need a man like him in my life, I deserved better. "Yeah, I'm good," I whisper, before letting myself fall into his arms, and sob.

"Hey, now." Jacob strokes my hair and pulls me tighter into his arms.

"You know what? He didn't even fucking care. He . . . fuck, I so hate the fucking bastard, but he took something from me I can never get back. I thought I meant more to him." I'm shocked at how hurt I am, at the thought I'd given my virginity to a man who didn't deserve it. I push back and run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

Why couldn't I have fallen in love with someone who would love me, and make love to me? Jared fucked me, and that was it. Never once did the words of love pass his lips. It is only now I realise just how big of a fool I was. Never again will I give myself to another, unless he loves me like no other.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm updating just slightly early while Authorboi is away on a lovely weekend away with friends. Hopefully he won't mind.**

**Big thank you to our beta, Nmydreamz, we appreciate her help so much.**

**As always, we own only plot and thank you for your reviews and continued support.**

* * *

**Seth**

After showering, I come out to see clothes lying on my bed and stare at them in horror. I tentatively put my hand out to touch them. Yep, my worst fear - leather. I look around the room and try to find my suitcase with my other clothes, but it is not where I left it. I open the cupboards, having no luck at all locating my clothes. Storming out of the bedroom I shout at Jacob to give them back to me.

"Just try them, Squirt," he sighs, as I stand there tapping my foot.

"I'm not a . . . " I stop myself when I look at Jacob's face. "FINE," I say, stomping off to my room, showing my disapproval. I hear Paul chuckling at me from the end of the hall. I don't know him very well yet, so I just poke my tongue out before closing the door. Ripping my towel off, I pick up the pants. The cool leather feels nice in my overheated hands.

I slide the pants on, surprised I can get them up. They are like cling film and feel like suction. How the hell does Jacob wear this stuff? I had only seen photos of him wearing leather, something he doesn't do everyday. Once done up, I bend my knees until I am squatting, hoping they give a little. The door slams open and my friend comes in, carrying two glasses of what I know is my favourite beverage. Quickly standing up, I take the glass and knock half of it back before he takes it from me. Alcohol and I do not mix well together. Two glasses and I am as giggly as a girl.

"You look hot, Squirt," he says, putting the glasses down and picking up the leather top, holding it out to me.

"Jake, don't make me look like a bigger dork than I already am," I sigh, picking up my glasses to put them on my face. I only need to wear them at school and when I get headaches. Right now I have a thumping one, due to the stress of being out of control of the whole situation I find myself in.

Jacob grabs my chin and makes me look him in the eye. Everytime I try to pull my gaze away he gives my chin a firm squeeze. My eyes are watering; not out of pain, but embarrassment. I look him directly in the eye, hoping he will see I don't want this.

"Just once, Seth, get out of your comfort zone. I am going to be at your side all night, I promise. So will Paul and Charlie." He bends down and kisses my pouty lips, before letting me go. "Charlie is looking forward to meeting you." He hands me the top again and waits until I put it on.

"Omg, you can see my nipples in this," I say, covering myself around the chest with my arms.

"What nipples?" he chuckles, handing me my glass. "Put your black combo boots on and you are almost good to go." He walks to the door. "Food will be ready in a few minutes." With that, he exits the room.

"I don't have combo boots," I mumble, sitting on the bed, letting the heat of the booze flow through my body.

"Borrow mine," Paul says, and comes in carrying a pair. They look horribly heavy. He puts them by my feet and starts fussing with my hair. "You know your cute, right?" I give a nod.

Of course I'm bloody cute, but I'm nearly an adult so being called something like this is the last thing I want. Puppies are cute, babies are kinda cute, but I'm not supposed to be cute. I knock back the rest of my drink and let Paul do whatever he wants to.

"Take a look in the mirror," he says, finally stepping back.

"Nah, all good. Trust you know what you're doing," I lie, not trusting him for one minute. After all, he is the one who brought me the stupid clothes. I feel a happy hum in my head and set out to find Jacob, who's on the computer. He is chuckling at something, so I go to see what it is. He is the best person to send rude jokes.

I stare in horror as I see he is on facebook. My eyes go directly to Emmett's name and sigh; he isn't on. Jacob is talking to someone named Jessica. Excusing himself, he leaves me alone, and I log him off and back onto my own account since he is heading to shower, to get ready for our big night.

I regret it the moment I post that I have glitter in my hair. The women are going wild. I pour myself another drink, knowing I will need dutch courage. This isn't me, and I feel uncomfortable. I walk across the room with a plate of food, and my glass, looking in the window and see my reflection. "Fuck," I groan.

I quickly put my food and drink aside and try to pull my top down, to cover myself. It's as restricting as the pants. I grab a towel from the cupboard and place it across my lap. I don't even want to look at it.

_Hi Twinkie, thought you would be partying, _Emmett pings me, drawing my attention back to my computer.

Oh, God. The heat rushes to my cheeks and my cock twitches. At the rate it's growing, I am going to rip these pants. If I thought my goods were showing before, now is just WRONG.

_**They fucking put glitter in my hair, **_I all but shout into the computer.

_What is wrong with glitter? I love glitter._

I stare at the screen, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. No way does he like glitter, no one in there right mind wears glitter. Surely he is taking the piss out of me. I pick up my glass and drink it in one. I get that some men like wearing this stuff, but images of really camp guys come into my head. My cock deflates and I push my plate away, no longer feeling hungry.

_**It's not me,**_is all I can manage to say.

_Twinkie, I'll bet you look fucking hot._

_**No, I look like a fucking idiot.**_

_Jacob won't let you go out looking like an idiot. _

_**I know, but I don't . . . this isn't me, Emmett.**_I know I sound like a spoilt child, but I don't care.

I don't miss what he says about me looking fucking hot, but I really don't think so.

_Want photo's LOL_

_**Grrrrr Yeah, nah, not going to happen, Emmett.**_

Jacob and Paul come out, wearing similar leather, and they look fucking hot. I push the laptop to one side and bang my head on the bench. Jacob comes over and pulls me up. I glare at Paul, who just smirks at me. I am not a violent person. I am against any form of violence but, right now, I want to smack the fucker right in the nose.

"Come on, you need to eat. You're already half cut." Jacob puts the food in front of me and hands me the fork. Knowing Jacob, if I hadn't started eating of my own accord, he would have force-fed me. He always says I need to eat more. Not my fault I am skinny; lack of food isn't the problem.

With no shame he starts reading my facebook page, and even starts talking to whoever is on. God, I hope Emmett has logged off. Every now and again Jacob chuckles and types something really fast. Paul comes to refill my glass, only for Jacob to take it from my hands and drink it himself. He had been the one to clean me up after my first time on the terps, with him and Jared.

"I'm going to get out of this, I'm too hot,"I groan, trying to pull at my top once I've eaten my fill.

I am sweating, and am grateful I have on a good deodorant. I have no luck with the top, so I unzip my pants, desperate to get them off, not giving a monkeys about anyone seeing me naked. Paul and Jacob stand there, both pissing themselves, laughing. I don't get the pants further than half a butt cheek. I'm going to live in leather for the rest of my fucking life. The harder I try, the sweatier I get, and the more they cling to me. I'm happy to have taken all the batteries out of the camera earlier, and hid both the guys phones . . . however they've somehow managed to find them.

There is a knock at the door and Jacob goes to answer it. I go to the computer, to beg someone to save me, but he had logged off and the computer was powering down. Zipping up my pants, I go to stand beside Paul, slipping my hand into his. I was told I will meet the famous _master_ tonight, as he is coming with us. Paul doesn't laugh, and squeezes my hand gently.

"You'll like him, promise," he whispers, as Jacob comes in with a man a lot older than himself.

"Charlie, I want you to meet Seth, my bff," Jacob says, coming to stand beside me, taking my other hand.

Charlie looks me up and down, smiling at me. I lean into Jacob but quickly change my mind, thinking I should perhaps not be touching his sub.

"Nice to meet you, Seth. I've heard a great deal about you," he says, coming forward to kiss my cheek.

"Nice to meet you too, sir," I say.

All three men laugh, "Please, call me Charlie. Unless I get you in my playroom, then it's _master_," he chuckles, kissing Jacob's forehead. "Come, let's go. Don't want the world to miss out on such fine creatures," he says, taking Jacob's hand in his.

Paul and I follow them out to the waiting car. I whistle. I have no idea what the car is, but it's one, sweet-looking ride. Paul and I are shoved into the back, our knees up by our face. _Guess looks don't count for everything,_ I think, fearing my pants will split.

Thankfully, the ride is short and we park in Paul's spot at the back of the club. I thought we would go through the back door, but we are going to go through the front where, already, there is a queue of people waiting to get in. Everyone greets my friends as we make our way to the front.

"Oh, who's your friend?" a few people ask.

"Back off, bitches, he is out of bounds," Paul says, taking my hand and dragging me behind him. The music is pumping and Paul leads me to the floor, his hands on my hips. "Just fucking move. Otherwise, you're going to get eaten by these crazy fuckers," he whisper shouts in my ear, so I can hear him over the music.

**Emmett**

I don't expect to get much more than a fast hello from Seth this weekend, so when he catches me online I allow a smile to win out on my face. It is short lived though, our time together, because his friends have his day planned out to the very last second.

Everything seems fine, calmer than our earlier chat, but when I wake the next morning he seemed panicked about something as simple as wearing glitter. It's not unheard of for gay men to go out doused in the stuff here in England, so it takes me a while to understand what has him so freaked. Then I remember the rest of his outfit.

_It's so funny, you should see him having a mental._ Jacob has taken over my chat window when everything seemed to overwhelm Seth enough to have him logging off.

Until this very moment I've never really spoken to the submissive. Yes, I have decided to call him that, rather than use his name, and there is something about him that has my guard up; totally unlike speaking to Seth. Jacob comes across as the kind of person who demands you listen to him, the opinionated type I normally despise, but right now he seems intent on telling me every detail about the ordeal our mutual friend is going through.

_He is trying to get the pants off, one cheek hanging out - so funny._

I have to wipe my mind clean of the photos I've seen of Seth, because it feels wrong fantasising about him dressed in leather from head to toe. The guy my mum raised me to be is screaming in my mind to remain respectful, regardless of how my more smutty self is wanting to win out.

_That's funny. You better get pics,_ I reply, hoping Seth isn't as upset as he was when he arrived at their house that morning.

_Can't - the brat has taken all the batteries out of our cameras, but don't worry. Charlie will sort him out when he arrives,_ Jacob sends, a wink following his words.

Curious, I ask who this Charlie is, remembering Seth had told me Jacob was living with his boyfriend, Paul and hadn't mentioned another man. I'm pretty sure Seth's boyfriend is called something else, something shorter.

One word flicks onto the screen, and I almost drop the spoon of cereal I am about to eat.

_Master!_

Shit. Why the fuck do I suddenly have a sense of unease trying to consume me? Attempting to push it all aside, I send Jacob my goodbyes when he tells me said _Master_ has now arrived.

I never even get to say farewell to Seth.

"What's the matter with you?" Edward asks, coming into the room, carrying his husband's washing like the good bitch he is of late.

Edward has been married to Riley for a year now, and already he is the perfect doormat for my best friend, and short-lived ex, to walk all over. Yes, for maybe four months, Riley and I had dated. It was for such a short time, we both just roll our eyes when people find out. He's more like the annoying little brother I never wanted, instead of an ex-boyfriend. Even thinking of him as anything other than blood has me wanting to wretch.

We never really had the conventional type of relationship. He always made excuses to do anything other than touch me, so anything romantic died out straight away. Relationships for me have always either been crap, or I end up with the wrong kind of guy. This is why I do not date! It's easier this way.

"Nothing," I grumble to Edward, who floats past me in a world of his own, towards the kitchen.

He doesn't push the fact he knows something is wrong with me because soon, Riley will be calling for him, to wait on him like the obedient husband he should be. All my friends are loved up or getting there now, all far too busy to spare a second of their precious time on me - something I've gotten used to. I guess they all know, when it all goes sour, they can come running to me to help them through their mess. Heaven forbid I should be selfish enough to ask them for a single moment for me, even something as simple as a fucking text message to ask how I am.

Meh! I don't want to think about the friends I have right now. My head is full to bursting with the young guy living on the other side of the world, out having fun and probably about to make out with every guy he meets, like most gay men his age do. I was his age once, and no way was I innocent.

Seth is different though - right? In the short amount of time we've chatted I have picked up on that, haven't I? He has told me so many times how much he loves his boyfriend - Jared, I think he's called - so he wouldn't be out fucking every hot-blooded male, would he?

Please! I've experienced it myself many times over, meeting a cute guy in a club.

Kissing him, liking him, only for him to tell me he is in an open relationship, but for me not to tell his boyfriend. It's like a running gag in the gay world, isn't it? The excitement of sleeping around while your partner waits at home, thinking you love them.

Bastards. I'd give anything to have someone warming my bed for me, kissing my cheek after a long day. Loving me and the dark side everyone has.

This is the main reason I don't fit in the gay world, why the other men laugh at me when I refuse to go home with them. Fuck, if I knew the man I loved was out getting his end away, it would kill me. Not that I have anyone to love, of course, but in my fantasies I do, and he loves me enough to stay.

It would be fucked up if my imaginary boyfriend slept with someone else; what the hell would that say about me?

I chuckle, but it's forced.

Collapsing back into my seat, I stare out my living room window and wonder what Seth's up to, hoping he is the genuine, sweet guy I have dubbed _Twinkie_. I may not know him personally or, should I say, in the flesh, but I want to believe he is like me.

He gets me.

Talking to Seth is like keeping a journal. My heart pours out to him more than I have ever divulged, even to Riley, who used to know everything about me.

_I'll bet Seth wouldn't forget my birthday, like Riley had._

Yeah. I still can't seem to get over the fact he didn't even bother with a card, but that's Riley for you. He's changed.

Seth is like me though, isn't he?

Slamming my hands onto my desk, I drag my body to standing and make my way towards the kitchen, to my coffee maker. I need my sweet addiction.

Ignoring Edward, who is humming to himself like the cat who got the cream, I fill my machine and stand to watch it brew. This is as exciting as it gets for me on a Saturday morning, watching as the glass pot fills with golden, liquid pleasure.

"What you doing today?" I ask Edward, hoping to get him to stop humming before I smash him across the head with my mug.

For some reason, everything is infuriating me this morning.

He turns towards me, his green eyes looking at me dreamily. "I think we are going into town, but I need to check with Riley. There is no way we're staying in for another weekend," he declares, offering me a sweet, confident smile, but I read between the lines.

What he really means is he will ask his husband if it's okay for them to leave the house, because there is no way Edward will challenge him. I sometimes wonder if he got his balls chopped on his wedding day but, then again, I have seen him stand up to his husband - once. It made for some good entertainment at the time for me, who was sat on the sofa minding my own business when the pair brought their drama into the living room.

"What you up to, anything good?"

No.

Actually, yes. "I'm meeting Alice for coffee and shopping. We both need to catch up."

How could I have forgotten I was due to meet my friend of four years in a few hours? A few seconds ago I was moaning none of them bother, yet somehow I forgot our plans. Alice and I used to work together, and she would listen to me the way Seth does now. Then she found her dream guy, and bye-bye Emmett.

Here I go, thinking about Seth again; my mind trailing off to ponder over the whereabouts of the young stranger. I need to meet Alice so she can slap some bloody sense back into me.

If there is one thing she does, it's pull me from my dreams with her blunt honesty.

Alice sees everything in black and white and, for someone who loves fantasy films and books like I do, she is very to the point when it comes to real life - not to mention my failing love life.

Within two hours I'm sitting across from her, drinking more coffee. As per the norm, she isn't lowering her voice, regardless of the children around her.

"You know what? You need to go out and get fucked!" she tells me, laughing so loud I swear silence falls across the room for a few seconds.

Swallowing the urge to tell her to piss off for the thousandth time today, I let out a sharp exhale of air before speaking. "How many times do I have to tell you, I want more than a one night stand?"

"Yeah, yeah, but you might as well have some fun while looking, my darling," she tells me, with her thick, South African accent.

Alice may have lived here for a few years now, but she still hasn't picked up on our 'lazy english', as she calls it. She sits playing with her short hair while checking out the young couple nearby, her eyes looking them over like a lion about to attack its prey.

"Oi, you're taken, remember?" I warn her, trying not to laugh as she rolls her eyes at me.

"Nothing wrong with looking, honey. My man knows I don't play away."

"Anymore," I tease, remembering the countless pictures of cock she had shown me of the latest man, who had turned her to religion - screaming for God every night.

She must be in love though, because she's never once shown me Garretts; not that I want to see.

"Can we stop talking about my failing love life and chat about something else?"

_Like Seth?_

Fuck, here I go again! She's already seen me checking my mobile for facebook updates every five seconds, to the point she threatened to put my mobile in her coffee mug for a bath. Bitch.

"When did you become so boring, my precious?"

"You know you sound like a fucked up version of Gollum when you call me that, right?"

I yelp when she sends a sharp kick my way under the round table.

"Hey, I'm just remembering how you sit and caress cake, the same way he does that bloody ring. Not my fault you seem to be his fat double."

Alice is a big girl but, in her words, she has a fat arse and is proud of it, thank you very much. This is the only reason I get away with teasing her about her size. That, and I'm not exactly skinny, myself.

_Unlike Seth, he's thin . . . and . . ._

Shit!

"I keep thinking about a guy in another country!" There. I blurt it out like the bloody idiot I am. Great!

Alice laughs, taking my uneaten muffin and biting off the top. "Please, help yourself," I grumble.

With a mouthful of food, she talks with her usual, booming tone. "Oooh, have you met someone, my darling?"

"No, I just said I can't stop thinking about him, nothing else. Anyway, he has a boyfriend, so . . ."

"And?" she says, matter-of-factly.

Swallowing my frustration, I try to keep my voice controlled. "_And_ he lives in New Zealand. Oh, and yeah, we're not all cheating homewreckers."

It feels good to laugh with her, lost in the comfort of the friend I don't get to see as often as I should.

"Listen here," she starts, and I sit back, already expecting her to drone on. "You, my friend, need to have a little more confidence, and so what if your thinking about someone you can't have. At least you're thinking about men again. Fuck, I thought you was going all straight on me for a second, my darling."

We both make gagging sounds on queue, before she carries on. "And when I go back home, Garrett will be there, so I know overseas relationships can work."

"Wait, back up. I never said _anything_ about a relationship, and you're off home for three weeks. It's not like you're staying over there."

"How did you meet someone in another country, anyway? And if you say facebook I swear I'm going to punch you out, you're obsessed," she declares, rolling her eyes when my cheeks pink.

"Have you bought my book yet?" I try to change the direction of the conversation, not wanting to risk another lecture about wasting my life online.

Anyone would think she'd met all her past lovers the conventional way and didn't abuse the internet, like the rest of the world.

"Yeah, yeah, I plan to. I've been busy."

"Too busy to buy my book. Hows that for friendship?" I snap, not minding too much because I plan to give her a copy for Christmas anyway.

I take the second she is stealing to read a message from Garrett, to think about what's happening with Seth, hoping he's gotten over his reaction to the leather he had to wear. Not to mention the fact I pray he isn't cheating on his boyfriend. It shouldn't affect me, what he does, it's his life after all, but I still find myself hoping he's like me, so I won't feel as alone in the world as I already do; that another gay man wants to find the one to grow old with.

Well, he is already half way there, I guess. I'm the one still looking for Mr Right, left on the shelf as they say.

With Alice now calling Garrett, I wonder if Jacob is looking after Seth, protecting the guy I wish I could chat to about the simplest of things, like he said he would. He assured me Jacob is like his older brother and will keep an eye on him, but things change when drink is involved. Didn't Seth tell me he was a lightweight when it came to drink? With his inhibitions numbed by booze, will he be groping another guy in the corner of the club Jacob has taken him to?

I shouldn't care, not really, but I hope Jacob is as protective as he claims to be, and that he is watching Seth.

_My Seth._


End file.
